Page 39 of Total Shutdown

Stop it, Collins.

“I’m not the type of guy to invade someone’s privacy,” he finishes. “Also, I wanted to thank you in person for the way you’d been with Ezra. I get you wanted us to keep our distance, and I genuinely didn’t think he’d ever meet you, let alone become obsessed with you and your bikes.” He laughs and pulls at the back of his neck, wincing. “When I say obsessed, I mean more curious and …” He releases his neck, and his hand slaps against his thigh.

I’d laugh if I didn’t have secondhand cringe on his behalf. The guy can barely string three words together right now.

“Don’t worry about the photos,” I say, and his face immediately eases. “As for Ezra, I meant what I said—he can come around to my garage anytime he wants. I think it’s great that he’s so passionate about something.”

Heat warms my chest at the memory of his excitement. He rode on the back of my bike like a pro, laughing and giggling with the wind whipping at his face.

Sawyer nods once. “I think that’s why I’m shocked at the way he’s rapidly developed an interest in, er … the bikes, not necessarily you. I mean, you’re nice.”

He huffs out a laugh and, honestly, I want the ground to open up and swallow us both.

“I get what you’re saying,” I offer.

Sawyer smiles, hands returning to his pockets. “You’re nice to him anyway.”

I quirk a brow and spin around to the coffee machine, pulling two cups from the shelf situated above it. “Since you showed up at the ass crack of dawn, how about a coffee?”

“It’s nine thirty, not exactly early. I stopped by on my way back from morning skate.”

I turn back over my shoulder. “Do you want one or not?”

“Yes, please,” he replies, walking toward me.

I turn back away, the tingles I frequently fight to suppress showing up once more.

“I wasn’t finished with what I came to say.”

His hot breath tickles the back of my neck, and I pause on making the coffee.

“Go ahead,” I breathe, hitting Start on the machine.

A coffee aroma filters into the space around us.

“Look at me, Collins,” he says.

My pulse kicks up another notch, tingles invading all of me—from my fingertips to my toes.

A strong hand wraps around my hip. Through my robe and shirt, I shouldn’t be able to feel the warmth of his palm or remember so clearly the last time it was there, holding me in place while he asked me to leave with him.

But I do.

“Look at me, Collins,” his gruff voice repeats.

The coffee machine cuts off, and with his grip firmer, he turns me toward him.

We’re close, our bodies inches apart. The tingles turn to an ache, settling between my thighs, and I hate that he has this effect on me. To the onlooker, I might be a little wild, but underneath, I’m always in control. Every guy I touch is safe, uncomplicated, and poses zero threat to the way I live my life. And consequently, my fleeting presence in theirs doesn’t leave anyone hurt. I don’t want to hurt this man—or his son.

Like he’s pulling me in, my eyes lock with his, and we both breathe rapidly.

“What did you want to say?” I barely recognize my own voice, which sounds way higher than usual.

Sawyer’s eyes flash to my lips and then back to mine. If he tried to kiss me, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop him. Though, since he thinks I don’t kiss, I doubt he will.

The truth is, what I said that night was bullshit. I do kiss, and I’ve kissed a lot of guys over the years. It wasn’t too personal because there were no feelings involved. Even after one or two dates and some sex, kissing them was just another act.

But kissing Sawyer, I know that would be different.

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